


I'll Leave My Happy home For You

by eternal_optimist



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon until season 2, F/M, In a more unconventional story, Soulmates, Then Caroline gets out of MF like she should have a long time ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_optimist/pseuds/eternal_optimist
Summary: And my soul saw you and it kinda went, "there you are, I've been looking for you."





	I'll Leave My Happy home For You

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 7 of Klaroline AU Week 2016 . Soulmates AU. Set during season 2.
> 
> Heads up: I guess there’s a somewhat angsty part in this towards the near-end but this at best has a happy ending and at worst an allusion to it, so nobody is dying or anything (spoiler?). 
> 
> Thanks to Kelly (garglyswoof) for beta work.

 The first time she feels it, she’s dead.

But not dead-dead, because that would just defeat the purpose of feeling, wouldn’t it?

Instead her throat is parched, thirsty for something that she doesn’t know, gums aching and eyes blurred, feeling as though she couldn’t breathe.

She kills a man at the carnival, his blood flowing through her very self and filling her with life as he cries for her to stop, and when his heart stops beating it’s her who’s sobbing.

She doesn’t know if she should tell her friends that her control doesn’t suck as much as it looks, that there’s a nurse walking around - jugular a little wounded perhaps - but she’s alive, breathing.

All ends well in the end, or as well as someone waking up and sporting fangs could go. Even if Damon does try to kill her and Bonnie hates her and Elena looks at her with those quietly judging eyes and Stefan calms her as if she’s a wounded animal.

And still that feeling like she’s not where she belongs, she’s not _home_ , doesn’t go away.

But _all is well_ she tells herself, coaxing herself to sleep. _All is well._

* * *

 

Sleep has never been a necessity for him, not for the last thousand years at least, but it’s still a luxury he likes to indulge in every once in awhile.

But of course, the minute he chooses to participate in something so _human_ , he wakes up clutching his throat like he’s out of breath, like he’s _dying_.

And then he feels as if pure strength washes down upon him, extinguishing all of the suffocation, as if it isn’t there.

But it is, along with something he can’t identify, can’t pinpoint. It’s aching and healing and dark and pure. Except he _doesn’t_ do pure and he wonders if his mother has decided to end him from the other side, to prevent him from breaking his curse after she’s seen all of the pieces he laid out.

The thought pushes him even more, if possible. And when his witches come forward with news about his precious doppelgänger, ripe for the taking in Mystic Falls, he feels a battle won.

He swears he feels his caged wolf purring in response. Not for the thought of freedom, but for something _more_.

* * *

She leaves Mystic Falls. She leaves it all.

Packs a bag with her most precious belongings, those little trinkets she deeply cherishes and the cash she saved, crosses the ‘Welcome to Mystic Falls’ sign and never looks back again.

Her friends might think she’s taking a risk, with leaving everything behind her while she’s still not completely in control, but she knows they are the ones who are doing so.

Mystic Falls has become nothing more than a magnet for death and blood and pain. And she doesn’t exactly have the luxury of staying, not when her **mother** is trying to kill her and her ex-boyfriend is more than willing to help.

There’s a war coming, she senses, between her friends and that ancient vampire. Klaus, and his name alone causes shivers to cascade over her that are not necessarily out of fear.

Besides what would be the use of being an immortal vampire if she spent all her life in the confines of her small town? For as much as the thought of leaving the life she’s known terrifies her, her excitement overrides it.

She has places to go and memories to make and a life to live.

And maybe, just **maybe** , find where, _to whom_ , that feeling of familiarity belongs.

* * *

Coming back home has never been duller, in his opinion. If it wasn’t for his curse keeping him occupied, he’s sure he would have drenched the little town in blood from sheer boredom alone.

But Elijah is there to entertain him with his so called plans of ‘revenge and honour’ and so he refrains, if only to have a laugh as he pictures how it will so epically fail.

A day or so passes and it becomes too much even for him to handle so he takes a walk around town, safely protected from curiosity by the ‘not particularly handsome but for the time convenient’ body of the history teacher.

The streets seem nothing out of small town ordinance, and for a minute he wonders if staying in his current residence would be more engaging. But something catches his attention and he feels compelled to walk in that direction, frowning as the sight of a perfectly normal house greets him in return.

“She’s gone, sheriff, all her important things are nowhere to be found, I don’t think she’s coming back.” The speaker’s voice is rough and masculine and he recognises it as one of the doppelgänger’s friends.

He hears a laboured sigh. “I should have killed her sooner.” The words are full of venom and pain but he doesn’t bother hearing the rest. Something silver catches his attention from the asphalt and he kneels on the floor only to see a hummingbird silver necklace lying there. Seems it fell off and no one bothered to pick it up.

On the back a ‘C.F.’ is engraved.

* * *

By the time her feet touch the ground, her excitement is practically bouncing off her. Her eyes are greedy and curious and she takes in every single thing she sees. California is beautiful with all its sunshine and spectacularity and she wonders how it would feel if she lived there.

Every single thing is fascinating and she loves it. She buys a souvenir or two and it’s while she’s in the market that she sees a postcard of 20’s Chicago and decides she wants to head there next.

The city is different from San Francisco, less busy if not as much, but all its vintage bars are so very classy and she **loves** it.

It doesn’t take much effort to picture herself as a flapper, an elegant, sexy lady who’s somewhat dangerous and flirting with the mobsters and all sorts of dangerous men. She seals her night with a dance with a beautiful young man, who has blonde hair like sand and ocean blue eyes.

The image races through her. She feels like her entire body has had a bucket of ice dumped on it and she flinches, officially broken out of her daydream.

She ignores the strange looks some of the people give her as a look of dumbfoundedness washes over her face.

She finishes her day and still that image stays with her, sharp and vivid. How is that it feels like something she **_knew_**?

* * *

It’s a strange feeling, he admits, the sensation of his wolf pulsing freely in him, unchained for the first time since that fateful day his mother cursed him, but it is the one thing that he spent pursuing ferociously through his thousand years, and he welcomes it so wholly it doesn’t feel as strange anymore.

He runs and runs through the woods, howls piercing the dead night. All that makes it past his feral mind is the taste of blood and the desire for sunshine hair.

His body count is impressive or at least that’s what Elijah tells him, poised grace and dignified honour and ah yes he did promise him a family reunion, didn’t he?

Elijah’s daggered body is neatly settled besides his siblings and Klaus reflects that if a need for an apartment ever arises again, he should see for one that has a big room to fit them.

The thought briefly filters through his brain as he heads for the Grill, the occasion in need of a good traditional drink and an accompanying meal. He notices with amusement how none of the doppelganger’s followers seem to be within his line of sight.

Hungrily, he eyes one of the girls huddled in a corner, licking his lips as he wonders how her blood would taste. So he flirts, charming smiles and all, silkily trapping his prey for the night.

It’s not an easy feat when a vision of a blurred blonde keeps haunting him mercilessly. The weight of something metal in his pocket roots him on the spot and his prey leaves, unaware of her escaped fate.

Frustrated, he leaves. Acutely aware of every emotion running through him, pulsing and gripping his veins.

* * *

It’s unusual, she knows, that having this mysterious presence in the back of her head, always appearing at unexpected times, has become more comforting than strange.

But well, she has long surpassed normal expectations on how to deal with what life presents.

Still it’s rather dazzling, how the few charming words that she heard in her head not so long ago, spoken with a soft lilt and an accented voice manage to make her smile at night more than the memories of her childhood friends.

Perhaps she’s growing detached or maybe another unknown force is at work.

It’s in England that she manages to find the courage to ask one of the witches she’s met. Her hazel eyes seems to swallow her as she listens and for a moment, Caroline hesitates, wondering if she’s making the right decision, before she drowns her doubts.

She doesn’t dare describe the occupant of…well everything lately she supposes, tucks the blue eyes safely into the deepest confines of her mind. They are _**hers**_ and _ **hers alone**_.

“Have you ever heard of soulmates?” The question is so utterly _ridiculous_ it has her laughing and she can’t for the life of her care if the witch kicks her out even though a small sensible part of her brain tells her to quiet but _soulmates. Seriously?_

Still, the young witch waits for her to stop, her patience giving her an odd look of maturity. It takes Caroline three full minutes for her to grasp something akin to composure and when she does, she listens with full attention. Doesn’t know if the vice-like feeling in her chest is horror or something else entirely.

“Pray that you find that someone very soon, Caroline.” The witch tells her, her voice concerned and wary. Caroline thanks her.

Caroline smiles at her next ticket - Turkey. She has a rather optimistic feeling about everything.

It will be fine. Who knows, perhaps soulmates are matched for a reason.

* * *

The old vintage music of Gloria’s bar floats around him, but even that doesn’t do much to alleviate his mood. He hasn’t decided yet whether to laugh at the universe’s twisted sense of humour or to destroy some towns in his paths just because.

“I don’t mean to sound rude but I have to close sometimes today, Klaus.” The witch says, her tone reproachful.

He nods at her half-heartedly, and within half an hour, he’s roaming Chicago’s streets, Gloria’s words replaying over and over in his head.

_“Sometimes a pair of soulmates are not so lucky. Destined for each other but circumstances prevent them from ever meeting.There’s an ever-present ache as a result, and the only thing that can soothe it is the presence of that person-”_

Her words doesn’t make sense, or at least he doesn’t think they do. He was never a believer of fate or destiny. Everything in his world happens for a reason and this..this soulmate doesn’t fit anywhere, **shouldn’t** fit anywhere.

“I have plans and things that I want.”

Well he does too, he thinks angrily, as if that voice could reply. He broke his curse, true, but he has yet to make his hybrids. He hunted his father and killed him, but he still hasn’t undaggered his siblings.

The decision comes to him like a flash of lightning. And in a matter of minutes, he buys himself a first class ticket to England. He’ll find this blonde that has haunted him for the past year and hunt her down if he has to.

_“-And that bond can lead you to where your perfect match is, in an effort to stop the pain but I have heard of cases where both search following that piece of themselves like instinct and so they end up continuously looking, missing each other by a hair length, perhaps never to meet.”_

* * *

Here she is, wrapped up in her prettiest dress and attending a ball her seventeen year-old self would have never dreamt of seeing in her wildest dreams.

But then again her seventeen year-old self never thought she’d be as miserable as she is right now.

A few of the attendees greet her charmingly, engaging her in some small chatter. Although it doesn’t last long with her clipped sentences and bored glances - and she is not in the mood to talk, okay?

Of course, it’s right when she’s sipping on some champagne peacefully and revelling in her solitude, that she feels a familiar longing that surges through her entire being and the glass slips from her hand.

She barely pays it any attention, her head snapping feverously from side to side. Not again. Not again. Not when she finally rid herself of all the silly notions of her teenage dreams. Not when she’s given up the thoughts of a perfect soulmate and a perfect life.

But just as those thoughts filter through her mind, white hot anger fills her at the audacity of this man who has haunted her dreams for who knows how long - she may have lost count - because how dare he, he has absolutely no _right_.

She had gone to Greece, Italy and various countries following a stupid witch’s words, her stupid foolishness and even stupider soulmate bond for a century, so thanks she’ll pass on the blatant “fool’s gold” situation she’s being played into.

Her heart has been cracked too many times by a non-present man for her to be brave enough for the ultimate crushing.

If he’s even here at all, the cruel part of her mind taunts.

* * *

One of the waiters approaches him but he barely even spares him a glance and the boy, probably sensing his furious attitude, tries to flee as quietly and unnoticeably as possible.

 **Tries** ends up being the key word because it’s just too much fun for him to pass up. And as it happens he needs an outlet for his frustrations, and so the presence of one less waiter becomes a problem for the buffet and a convenience for him.

Perhaps it’s a bit out of etiquette to greet his guests in a dress shirt soaked with blood, but Klaus finds he can’t care less when he has much more important problems, namely one, than his decorum or lack thereof.

The painting of a blonde giving her back to him practically goads him from its place on the wall, serving as a reminder for the reason why his hands are balled so tightly they’re drawing blood.

After all these years he’s spent looking and searching, a futile effort with no results, the feeling of longing and pain has returned. Not that it had ever disappeared, with the constant faint hum that sang in his heart, sliding into its place with too much innocence as if it isn’t the source for his wandering.

As if it hasn’t brought him down on his _knees_.

* * *

Turns out that she’s one hell of a sneaky coward. Surprise? Not really.

Body weaving itself through the crowd with stealth that would put assassins to shame, she mentally pats herself on the back. She has no desire to come in contact with more talkative people who would only serve to further aggravate her. That could potentially end in a heart being ripped out. Or a dozen.

Finding herself in one of the hallways, she sighs as she spots someone standing further away. Maybe she could walk away without him noticing her or he could turn out to be one of those people who doesn’t like to talk much. Both seem like wonderful possibilities right now.

The man in question moves towards her, no doubt sensing her presence, and she angles her body to turn in the opposite direction but not before her eyes make contact with his. The blue in them feels like **home**.

And-Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. It’s like a mantra now that repeats itself in her head as those pair of shocked blue eyes continue to stare at her like she’s just appeared out of thin air, and she totally gets the sentiment, not even blinking.

She’s read about the feeling of having the Earth ripped from underneath you, and she’d explain what’s coursing through with that description but it feels like it doesn’t give it the justice it deserves. This is more of a ‘having a whole galaxy blowing up in your face’ sort of thing, and she thinks she may have heard her heart exploding from having too many emotions racing through her. Relief and Pain have never seemed more attractive as words and never so fitting.

She wants to break down and cry, rage and scream, smile and laugh. It’s all very confusing right now and she seriously needs to get her priorities arranged but she’s also having one of those life-changing moments she used to imagine when she loved her pigtails almost as much as the Barbie movies franchise, so maybe she’ll excuse herself this time.

Her eyes blink and usually she’d be embarrassed that she’s been caught staring as long as she has but the man, **Klaus** , is still openly fixated on her, and Caroline can tell he’s feeling similar emotions as she, except they’re more towards the bloody nature of things and yes - it totally fits with the shirt.

“There you are, love,” he whispers, some combination of a smirk and a smile tugging at his lips, and eyes that are way too familiar keep drinking her in. “I’ve been looking for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hesitate to leave feedback!


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